


A Delicate Matter

by ingridmatthews



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Unrequited, post Game of Shadows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 02:44:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingridmatthews/pseuds/ingridmatthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "A Game of Shadows".  Holmes finds a place to lay his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Delicate Matter

It's dawn over the Romani encampment when Holmes arrives there, scarred and bruised from his fatal battle with Professor Moriarty. Fatal in the sense that Sherlock Holmes is dead now and Sim asks no questions as she bathes his face with her skirt, wiping away the rust of dried mud mingled with another, more watery substance that some might call tears, but he'd never admit as much.

She feeds him soup, spiced with peppers and tea he can't quite place. He lies down on the pillows strewn over the rough rugs and falls asleep under her watchful eyes, dark with worry. 

He wakes only once during the night, calling out _his_ name. Sim's mouth twists with understanding and she soothes him back to sleep, rocking him like a child and singing in her own tongue, sweet against his ear. He watches the firelight make ominous shadows on the wagon's ceiling and allows himself to drift off.

Tomorrow he'll leave and not look back.

Or ... he'll stay.

He's not sure yet.

~*~

Sim was never a very good fortuneteller but with Holmes' help she becomes an excellent one. His observations, whispered to her before a customer is admitted, make her look positively clairvoyant and soon the silver is jingling in every pocket, making her rich beyond her wildest dreams.

She laughs and claps her hands when they leave her tent, dancing as Holmes pulls out a borrowed violin to play her a little victory march. She twirls, letting her gauzy skirt fly around her slim legs and he can't help but smile too. They share the same wagon, and eat side by side as allowed by the elders, noting the debt they owe to him, saving her from Moriarty. 

Each night they sleep curled around one another through the mild French winter. Everyone thinks they are lovers and the men of the camp stop flirting with Sim out of respect, something she doesn't exactly mind. 

Holmes does nothing to dissuade this notion either, allowing her to sit on his lap while lounging around the communal fire, dancing with her when the music plays. It's ... enjoyable ... to have a warm companion again, to have an affair of the heart that's reciprocated without such great pain attached.

All through the winter and much of the spring, this light-hearted state of affairs lasts. Until she comes to him and slowly pulls off her nightgown, offering herself to him ... without conditions. 

A moment of debate is all it takes. He's comfortable with her, in a way he's never been comfortable with anyone, not even ... 

She lets Holmes examine her, drinking in every detail before stretching herself over him, her breath sweet and warm against his lips. His prick stirs to life between her thighs as she kisses the corner of his mouth, whispering in Romani, words of passion without demands of any kind. He's not exactly sure what to do, but he uses his imagination and she guides his hand as he touches her, skimming her skin with calloused fingers. 

She's not as experienced as she pretends, Holmes realizes, especially when she lowers herself onto him, her pretty face contorting with pain. He's about to call everything off but she holds him there with her hand pressed against his good shoulder, nails digging into his skin. She sets the pace then, methodically rising then sliding down onto his prick before rising again, her discomfort slowly turning into a slack-jawed pleasure. 

He loses himself in her heat. She's very tight and there's a tinge of blood smeared over his cock but that's normal for a woman's first time, or so he's heard. She plunges down again and shockingly, all thought stops for a single, wonderful moment. 

With a gasp, he arches up into her, blissfully mindless. She laughs joyously and they are truly joined then, reaching their completion one moment after the other. Still panting, she rolls off and dozes off almost immediately -- a physiological reaction he thinks, noting he should study it someday.

A few quiet moments pass. Holmes turns away from her and watches the firelight make bright shadows on the wagon's ceiling as he allows himself to drift off.

Tomorrow he'll leave and not look back.

Or ... he'll stay.

He's not sure yet.


End file.
